


All the Attention That It Brings

by beanarie



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanarie/pseuds/beanarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is your plan to remove me from the building?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Attention That It Brings

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Santogold for the title and to everyone on tumblr who fancast Zoe Saldana as Irene.

The crime scene is over twenty four hours old. Lestrade and his men believe they've gleaned all the relevant data from the premises. Sherlock disagrees, and so he crosses under the yellow tape and into the club.

The building is quiet, nearly silent apart from a tell-tale creaking in the back office. Sherlock tracks the other occupant's movements in the back of his mind while sweeping up the floor behind the bar with a very small brush, confident he could take whoever it is down if required. 

Footsteps grow ever closer. 

The other occupant is female, or a very slim man with very long hair.

"You're not a cop," a voice calls. Female, yes. American as well. Mid-Atlantic region.

"Heavens forfend," he agrees. He's gathered a small pile of white powder and he rubs a bit of it between his fingers. Cocaine cut with something. Rat poison, most likely. Interesting. He takes a sample and rises, plastering on a challenging smile. "Is your plan to remove me from the building?"

She is objectively stunning, the sort of natural beauty that shines with very little cosmetic intervention, apart from her hair, which has been chemically straightened. "If you're the guy who killed Tom, I'd be dumb to even try, wouldn't I?"

He shows a bit more of his teeth. "I'm no murderer. An investigator only."

"A private eye?" she says. "They have those here?" She makes it sound so very noir.

"Consulting detective," he says, inclining his head in a small bow. "Did _you_ kill Mr. Broadstreet, Miss...?"

"Irene Adler," she replies. "And no."

"Poisoning is a distinctly Estrogen-scented form of assault," he points out.

"If you say so," she says, laughing. "Still didn't have any reason to. He paid on time. He wasn't rude. Kind of boring, but we need boring people in the world to cure cancer and do our taxes."

"Adler," he says. "A bit Ashkenazi for someone of your ancestry. Afro-Cuban, is it?"

"No." She smiles, and doesn't elaborate. This supports two very strong hypotheses. It's a stage name, and she's of Dominican descent. "What are you hoping to find here?"

"Anything they may have overlooked, which, given the current intelligence level of the yard..."

She grins, blindingly. "Endless possibilities."

"What were you searching for in the back office, Miss Adler?"

"Nothing related to Tom's death, I assure you," she says. "Don't worry about it." She turns swiftly, black hair falling in a shiny curtain down her back. "You'll lock up when you leave?"

"No," he replies happily. "Wouldn't you like one of my cards?"


End file.
